Icy, irascible impetus
of this continued chronic cold;
wars with what we wish to will
into existence: a
rival — a return
to warmer wits
warranted
fresh, new . . .
spring

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I’m not a fan of these day shift working weekends. Aside from working three days in a row, I log in to WordPress to find that I had three views yesterday, which means the seething masses of my adoring fans were looking for a Saturday Jams post that I am unable to post, which is why I’m shooting for one every other week.

Here in North Dakota, the weather seems to have a huge problem with changing its mind; in fact, March came in like a lion, and now it seems to be going out coughing up a hairball that looks suspiciously like a wet lamb. And here I am, talking about the weather again.

So on a day like this I’m lucky to be posted in the one spot where I can find time to write. I’m listening to surf music: The Gasolines, out of Brazil — A little wild with just a hint of world influence. And all in all, it’s not a bad end to a long weekend at work.

Not to mention, I just found their label’s website, which is selling digital albums for $5 USD, including a 63-track Brazilian surf compilation, each song by a different band. Not a bad deal at all at less than eight cents a track!